In the 1950s, when Robert Butler seven-years old, his father died. It was a year before anyone told Robert... "My mum didn't actually tell me my father had died. She just said dad's ill. Ages later my mum said how would feel about us, meaning me and her, marrying uncle Ernest - a chap she'd been seeing. I thought the right answer was 'yes' which is what I said. But I also said, "What about Dad?" My mother replied, "I didn't tell you, darling, but he died. I didn't tell you because you wouldn't understand. She was always saying, "You wouldn't understand." She very firmly blamed my stepdad for not telling me about my father's death. She said he'd get terribly jealous. When I did test the water as it were, a couple of times, my stepdad went into a massive sulk. I knew I'd done the wrong thing. I imagine he was that he really was very jealous and that mum went along with it."
I just accepted it the situation. There came a point when I realised I could ask my mum questions about my father as long as my stepdad wasn't around. Then she'd talk, slowly at first - she probably felt as repressed as well - but after a while it came out. Years later, after my stepdad died, it became a torrent.
I think she was possibly missing and loving my father during the second marriage. It's very difficult to talk about, it really is. I didn't realise how much it had hurt me, to be honest, until after my mum died which was about eleven years ago.
I did once sneak into her bedroom when I was little, and looked in a deed box where I found my father's death certificate. It was a shock. He was twenty years older than my mum who had me quite late in life. He was born in 1899, and died in 1959. I've brought along the only keepsake I have - my father's old-fashioned pocket watch. It's the only thing I've got associated with him And I've got the remains of what was once a photo album. There's a picture of me as a baby and a man's trouser leg and a hand around me. I assume it's my father who's been literally torn out of the photograph. My father had a sister, my auntie Olive. I was quite close to her and I used go and stay with her, but I think she must have been told not to say anything. She must have had photos or something. After my stepdad died, my uncle Stewart presented me with a photo of my father, my grandmother and him on the balcony of a flat they used to share in Highgate. That was the first time I even knew what he looked like. I'd built a picture in my mind of what I thought he looked like, but it was nothing like he really was. When I saw this grey- haired gentleman, I was astounded.
I know he had a daughter from a previous marriage. I haven't been in touch with her. I didn't like to really. I wondered if I was able to trace... I've no idea whether she's alive. My daughters are thirteen and sixteen now, and they're very very open and very rude to me. My wife, Wendy tells me off. She's says I'm too open sometimes. But I want it to be an open relationship - I can't imagine hiding things from them."
